


Dragons, Mutinies, Traitors, and Other Things a Lady Should Never Be Involved In

by utanga



Category: North and South - Ambiguous Fandom, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV, Temeraire - Naomi Novik
Genre: (literally), Dragons, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Higgins is the best wingman, Mr Bell is a matchmaker, Much Find, Much Quest, Napoleonic Wars on DRAGONS, Never insult a man's dragon, Romance, basically every N&S character, my shower thoughts are crazy, slow-burn, the what if fic nobody wanted (except me), write what you want to read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2020-01-25 18:18:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18579967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/utanga/pseuds/utanga
Summary: Basically the Napoleonic Wars on the backs of dragons, plus all the other normal artillery and stuff. This is where Frederick is involved in a mutiny, but John already knows who he is, and gets forced into helping by his commander, Mr. Bell, the dragon he captains, and Margaret Hale. Bell, of course, knows exactly what he's doing, and maybe if Dixon would leave the two ALONE for a minute, Bell's goddaughter might actually fall in love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SOOOOO.... this isn't a real chapter, I just wanted to know what y'all think. I'm going to write this regardless- this idea won't let me go. What do you think about it?

FANS FROM NORTH AND SOUTH--

Basically, dragons are huge and are manned by large crews. The dragon has many leather bands around it where the crew straps in using harnesses (like ones on rock climbing). Everyone hates the people who fly dragons because they're "crazy" and are basically ignored by everyone. They are seen as inferior (kind of like how being a manufacturer is demeaning to London society. Get it? geT IT?? GET IT??) This is because Aviators (people who fly dragons/ people in the Aerial Corps) treat dragons like people. Dragons are like people- they think like humans and everything. But they're huge and scary. Dragons become attached to one specific person as soon as they hatch and are devoted to that person (their Captain) forever. Captains become deeply devoted to their dragons as well. Look at these pics for size reference and read the books!

https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1505143907i/23890516._SX540_.jpg

https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/hostedimages/1505144003i/23890525._SY540_.jpg

FANS FROM TEMERAIRE--

I really can't explain everything here-- go read the synopsis for North and South and you'll basically get it. The EPIC BBC made a miniseries back in 2004 that is just so awesome and even if you don't want to read the book, you should watch it. (in my opinion, it's just as good, perhaps better). The best part: It's on Netflix!!!!! You can also get it on Amazon Prime for 2 US$ or google play/Youtube for 4 US$. Now, if you're still not convinced- Richard Armitage is in there along with Brendan Coyle (John Bates in Downton Abbey). Here's some pics of Richard if you're still not convinced!

https://res.cloudinary.com/uktv/image/upload/b_rgb:000000,w_880,h_495/v1455112387/q9gnrxai9besu3z6m5q5.jpg

https://images.amcnetworks.com/bbcamerica.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/10/Richard-Armitage-Cravat1-1600x720.jpg

https://data.whicdn.com/images/63964587/original.gif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that enough background? Do you need more? Are you even interested? I beg you PLLLEEEAAASSSEEE tell me if you are or if this is stupid!


	2. English Skirmish; Our Hero's Introduction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So First Chapter!!!!! I finished this at like 1 am so you're welcome for that. What do you think? I'm quite pleased with John.

The cold breeze whipped around Captain John Thornton as he gazed through his spyglass at the (truly excellent) English countryside and the Channel. As he gazed around, he could see nothing unusual, other than the three other English dragons and their crews. Satisfied, John snapped his spyglass closed and knelt down on his dragon to better communicate over the loud wind. 

“Nothing amiss, Marlborough. Keep flying, and we'll be back soon enough.” John’s voice was loud and carried back to his 30 crew members. This was purposeful; John didn't have a great relationship with his crew, and communicating with his female Regal Copper dragon much louder than necessary helped to both keep them updated, and also avoid any awkward conversation. 

Marlborough growled her acknowledgement of him and continued on, while John's first lieutenant, Nicholas Higgins, knelt down next to him. 

“I'll be glad when we can end this infernal patrolling and Napoleon just finally attacks. This cold isn't good for me bones,” Higgins sighed. 

Higgins was the only member of the crew that John felt comfortable talking to. In fact, Higgins was probably John's only friend. They might have gotten off on the wrong foot when they met, but ever since John had asked him to be his first lieutenant, He’d been loyal and friendly-- even when he questioned John’s orders (only the really stupid ones, naturally).

“On the contrary, Higgins. I’d rather Napoleon would stay far away from England. He would pollute the air- if he's even tall enough to reach it.” 

Higgins snorted, looking to the side. “Aye. That would be-- Captain,” Higgins’ voice got quiet and deadly, “it would appear we have unwelcome company.” 

John's head swiveled around as he quickly jumped to his feet, Higgins close behind. Sure enough, five French dragons were heading right for them. Marlborough noticed as well, growling out a few choice words as she turned to face them. 

“On your feet men! Prepare to engage!” John barked, taking out his pistol and sword. Immediately, his men jumped into action- readying rifles and bombs and other artillery. John saw the other dragons in the outfit turn as well. The leader of the outfit, Slickson, Captain of Antonius, was waving flags; their meaning: Engage the enemy. 

Almost instantly, the screams and hollers of men accompanied by the harsh growls of dragons filled the air. Shots were fired; three of John’s men fell. He and his men quickly responded with a volley of bullets of their own- and some Frenchmen fell as well. Marlborough twisted and twirled in the air, striking out with claws and teeth to scrape at the enemy. John managed to get in a shot as she passed a large dragon with a gray body, streaked with white highlights. A Petit Chevalier! The Chevalier was nearly as big as Marlborough, and just as dangerous. 

“Thornton! Slickson has sent a Courier Dragon alerting Admiral Bell. He says to retreat! Those d----d frogs have got five heavyweights against our three; we’ve got to go. Requiem is wounded, and Antonius can’t go for much longer.” Higgins panted, turning to yell more instructions to the crew.

“We can’t leave. Who knows what the French will do? We’ve got to drive them off. Slickson! The man’s an idiot. Send the flags up. We’ll keep fighting- hold them off until they leave or we get reinforcements. Tell Slickson that we keep going… Someone’s got to!” Marlborough said angrily. “These French are within five miles of the English shore! We can’t retreat now.”

“You heard Marlborough. Alert Slickson,” John added. He turned away a fired a few more shots in the smoke filled air.

Immediately after sending the signal, Requiem, a middleweight with slash marks along her sides oozing blood, and Antonius turned around and headed for shore. That left John and Marlborough with one other dragon: Atticus and his Captain, Watson. 

Focusing back on the French, John noticed that one of the dragons, a middleweight with red and blue stripes, hanging along the back of the group. It seemed to be hurt, but still willing to fight. Leaning down to Marlborough, John asked, “Do you think you could target that one? Maybe we can chase it off.”

Marlborough nodded and dived toward the dragon, letting off a roar. As she dived, French dragon panicked and tried to get out of the way, but it was too late. Marlborough scraped her sides, drawing blood and managed to throw some of her crew into the water below. The dragon wailed pitifully and Marlborough turned around to face her other attacker: the Chevalier from earlier. Despite some twisting and snapping, the Chevalier managed to get in a long swipe to Marlborough’s side. Without hesitation, Marlborough swiped back, though the Chevalier managed to avoid it. 

John knelt at her side. “How deep is the wound? Is it bad, my dear?”

She grunted. “It’s not bad. I can still go on. Just wait ‘till I get my claws on him, the git!”

Satisfied, John stood back up. If Marlborough was complaining, she couldn’t be in that much pain. John noticed Atticus was engaged with a dragon nearly twice as large as he was. Even so, Atticus seemed fine, his smaller size giving him speed the other dragon didn’t have. Marlborough and John now focused on the remaining two dragons: The Chevalier and a yellow and black striped dragon. This one, a Flamme-de-Gloire, was smaller than Marlborough, but it could do something she couldn’t: breathe fire. However…

John knelt again. “Do you think you could get close to that Flamme-de-Gloire safely?”

“I suppose, but you’d better have a plan.” Marlborough swiveled again to come at the dragon.  
John called back to his crew: “Men! Ready the bombs. When we get close to the Flamme-de-Gloire, drop the bombs and gunpowder around her.”

“What good will that do?” Higgins called, only loud enough for John’s ears.

“If she’s covered in gunpowder and uses her fire, she’ll end up lighting herself on fire, not us.” John yelled. 

Suddenly, Marlborough was diving in a cloud of smoke, gunpowder and claws. The men obeyed John’s orders and with a triumphant swipe at the Flamme-de-Gloire’s side, Marlborough swept away. Now useless, the Flamme-de-Gloire turned away toward France. 

“Yes!” Marlborough growled, in tandem with the crew she carried on her back.

“Thornton! Look at Atticus! He can’t hold on for much longer,” Higgins yelled, pointing. 

He was right. Looking over, both Atticus and the French dragon had managed to slash at each other, and Atticus was quickly losing speed. The Chevalier had noticed, too, and was on his was to help his collegue. Marlborough turned without even needing instructions, and sped at fast as she could to help Atticus. John saw Marlborough’s wound bleeding more profusely and felt her raggard breathing beneath his feet. This needed to end quickly.

Marlborough managed to get there a few seconds before the Chevalier and swiped at the French dragon, forcing Atticus behind her. It was not enough. By putting herself between Atticus and the other dragons, she had left herself open for attack- and the Chevalier took advantage, making a gash in her belly, nearly splitting open her harness- the only thing keeping her crew on her back.

Atticus, streaking blood from numerous cuts lept over Marlborough and scraped the Chevalier’s eyes. The Chevalier bellowed, and with that, the skirmish was over. The French dragons limped back to France, but John wasn’t watching. He had turned Marlborough back to shore-- she needed to lay down, and fast. Atticus managed to place himself at her side, supporting her weight (slightly) in the air. However, Atticus was also hurt and much smaller than Marlborough. This couldn’t last long.

It had seemed like a lifetime (really it was only ten minutes), but they finally flew over the English shore. Heaving a sigh of relief, John knelt down to Marlborough. “How do you feel? How far can you go?”

“I hate to admit it, John, but I can’t go too much longer. My- my stomach…” 

Right then, Higgins crept up. “Thornton, Watson says Atticus can’t hold on for much longer. What do you propose?”

“We head for the closest clearing big enough for the both of them, I suppose. Whoever the land belongs to will just have to deal with it- be it the land of a blacksmith or Buckingham Palace, I don’t care. Here,” John sighed, handing Higgins his spyglass, “Can you see any possibilities?”

Higgins opened the brass telescope and gazed. After a few seconds, he handed it back to John. “By heavens, it’s a bloody miracle. Here, about maybe another seven minutes and we’ll be over a clearing. Think they can make it?”

“They’ll have to. Alert Watson.” John put the spyglass away and focused once more on his dragon. 

Those seven minutes felt like hell. With every beat, John grew more worried. Marlborough was quickly losing altitude and her breathing became more labored. Soon, she was barely above the trees, scraping some of the taller ones. Seeing the clearing, Marlborough sighed and beat her wings strongly one last time, collapsing heavily on the ground, jerking her crew around like rag dolls. Atticus’ landing was just as bad.

Once he and his men had dismounted, John sent his youngest ensign, William, running to inquire after the owners of the land, while the doctor assigned to Atticus and Marlborough looked over their wounds. All in all, John thought, it could have been worse.

They could be dead.


	3. The Perils of a London Wedding; Our Heroine's Introduction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaret talks to Henry, and some other people, and avoids dancing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a whole lot of action for this chapter, but next one will be better! Margaret and John will actually meet!

TWO WEEKS AGO

Margaret hated London weddings. They took too long, a by-product, she supposed, of trying not to offend anyone, which, by the end of it all, always managed to offend everyone anyway. She was happy for her cousin, Edith, and her new husband, Captain Lennox. But did there need to be quite so many flowers?

Flowers adorned every surface in her Aunt Shaw’s fashionable London home. Yellow Chrysanthemums, purple Freesia, white Lilies, and and blue Delphiniums were simply crawling over tables and chairs like some sort of forest. And, if that weren’t enough, Edith was crowned with the offending plants, as well as Margaret. The air was thick with the fragrance of flowers, and Margaret had spied more than one guest pull out a handkerchief and sneeze. It was embarrassing, but it was what Edith wanted, and so she got it. 

Currently, Edith was dancing the Cotillion with her Navy husband; it was their sixth dance, and they didn’t seem to be tiring or likely to stop for quite some time. Margaret sighed. As maid-of-honor, she’d already had the dubious pleasure of dancing with the best man- namely, Henry Lennox. He wasn’t a horrible dancer, she’d admit, but the way he stared at her made her feel a bit uncomfortable. Last night, Edith had confessed that Henry “had designs” on Margaret, and that Edith supported him wholeheartedly. After that terribly awkward dance, Margaret had feigned exhaustion (not entirely false- she’d been up since four in the morning, making sure everything progressed as planned) as to avoid dancing. So far it had worked splendidly. 

If only Henry could leave her be! Since their dance, he hadn’t been more than ten feet away from Margaret, even though she’d moved around the room quite often. Even now, he was behind her, in his dark blue jacket and sparkling white cravat. Goodness, she could practically _feel _his eyes boring into her skin.__

__As if he could hear her thoughts, the object of her annoyance suddenly drifted over, invading her personal space._ _

__“Doesn’t Edith look well, Miss Margaret? I think marriage will suit them,” He asked, _as if he hadn’t asked Margaret that TEN TIMES this morning. ___ __

__

__Still, Margaret knew her duty. She smiled over at his brown eyes. “Yes, I’m sure they will be very happy. How fortunate that they were able to marry for love.”_ _

__

__“Yes,” he replied (The insipid man!),” I recall hearing once that your parents married for love. Do you wish the same, or are you more realistic?”_ _

__

__Margaret nearly rolled her eyes. “Not only do I hope for it, Mr. Lennox, I plan on it. I’ve lived in London for every Season since I was nine. I was able to compare my Aunt and Uncle’s relationship, who married for fortune, and my mother and father’s, who married for love. My family may not be wealthy, but I wouldn’t trade my family’s love for all the gold in the Empire! Are you “realistic”, Mr. Lennox?”_ _

__

__During her miniature speech, Mr. Lennox had shifted uncomfortably. Margaret supposed this was because he didn’t expect her to answer in the manner that she did. Most men discovered that about Margaret- she never did exactly as one would expect._ _

__

__“Erm- yes, I suppose I am less whimsical than you are about marriage, Miss Margaret. I believe it is possible to be happy with whomever one marries, as long as proper effort is applied.” The last notes of the Cotillion faded out in the background, only to be filled by a minuet a moment later._ _

__

__Margaret laughed. “Spoken like a true lawyer, Mr. Lennox!” From the corner of her eye, Margaret saw her Aunt Shaw moving steadily to Margaret’s mother and father with some sort of paper in her hand. Seeing a way out of the conversation, Margaret quickly added, “My dear Aunt looks like she is in need of assistance, perhaps we could continue this conversation at another time, Mr. Lennox?”_ _

__

__Before Mr. Lennox could murmur his acquiescence, Margaret had already hurried away in a flurry of yellow satin to where her parents and Aunt were now sitting, talking anxiously. Stopping for a moment to pull some ridiculous flowers out of her hair, Margaret quickly looked around to see if anyone was paying attention to her (they weren’t; no one ever did), and stuffed them quickly in a nearby unsuspecting bush. Composing herself, she then walked calmly over to the group and smiled serenely._ _

__

__“Is there any news?” She asked. Three heads turned to her simultaneously, as if they’d been caught in some sort of secret. Margaret’s mother spoke first._ _

__

__“Oh, yes! Look, dear. A letter from Frederick.”_ _

__

__Frederick! Margaret’s brother had left two years ago to join His Majesty’s navy. Due to the unpredictability of ships, a letter was rare, and cause for celebration. To her knowledge, his ship was somewhere near France, patrolling and awaiting more allies._ _

__

__“What does it say?” Margaret sat next to her mother. She had to fight the impulse to snatch the letter out of her mother’s hands, and contented herself with twisting her hands in her satin dress._ _

__

__“Not too much. You know, regulations and censoring and all that. He says they’ve had some storms recently and that everything is just soaked. However, he says he’s doing well and to not be too worried as they haven’t seen any French ships for weeks. Hmmm,” Her mother paused, “No ships for weeks? That’s cause for worry, isn’t it?”_ _

__

__Aunt Shaw was quick to step in. “Don’t trouble yourself, Maria! You’re already weak, poor thing, and if you go on like that you’ll ruin my nerves! Don’t forget, my new son-in-law is also in the Navy. Poor thing! If only they’d gone into the Army!” She sighed, conveniently forgetting that it had been her idea for Frederick to sign up for the Navy. “Well, I guess it’s too late now, poor thing! We’ll just have to pray for him, that’s all. It’s a good thing my new son-in-law received and extended leave for their wedding trip, at least he’ll be safe.”_ _

__

__Margaret placed her hand over her mother’s. “If Frederick says not to worry, than don’t worry. He’ll be fine! He’s a Hale, Mother, and Hales always land on their feet.” Consoling her mother was one of Margaret’s better skills. She may not be able to play a Concerto, but she can make her mother relax._ _

__

__“You forget that he’s also half Beresford, my dear niece.” Aunt Shaw interjected, not wanting to be outdone. “And Beresfords have the unfortunate virtue of being handsome, tragic heroes. No doubt he’ll save people from tragic fates and seal his own. Such a dramatic boy, don’t you think?”_ _

__

__Margaret’s mother trembled again. Thankfully, this time, Margaret’s father spoke. “That boy has a good head on his shoulders. As long as he remembers to use it properly, he’ll be alright.” Mr. Hale paused to pull out his pocket watch. “My, look at that! It’s midnight. Well, “He sighed, “I guess we’d better head on up to bed. What do you say, Maria?”_ _

__

__*********_ _

__

__The last of the guests left around two, after being poked and prodded out the door by a disgruntled Margaret and a few of the servants. She made her way upstairs, removing her pins as she went, no longer caring if it was “proper” or not. She was relatively certain she’d dropped a few on her way, but she didn’t want to spend the time looking for them. Right before collapsing into bed, Margaret made sure to pray for her brother’s safety. She didn’t buy into Aunt Shaw’s “handsome-but-tragic-hero” theory, but better be safe than sorry, right?_ _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos??? Comments??? Concerns????


	4. Southern Fields; Where our Hero and Heroine Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets Margaret- and it's love at first fight. awwwwww <3 <3 <3

Present Day  
It had been approximately one hour since Marlborough and Atticus had landed, and yet William hadn’t returned, which meant John didn’t know who’s land they were on, which meant they could get in trouble from the Admiralty for not alerting citizens about the presence of dragons, which meant John was in a bad mood. Dammit.

The good news was that Marlborough was getting medical attention. Her cuts were worse than Atticus, so the doctor looked at her first. All Aerial Outfits got one doctor for every 2-3 dragons, and it was lucky that he had been on Atticus’s back today, instead of Requiem’s. He had Marlborough lying on her side, with white gauze placed over all of her cuts, making her look almost like a cloud. The midshipmen had killed a cow wandering around the grounds for her to eat, and thankfully, she had eaten every bite. John would have to apologize to his hosts about the cow, later. 

Her breathing became less labored and she was quietly sleeping as the crew members hustled around her, putting up tents and other camp materials, and starting a few fires. They were all joking and laughing with some men even pulling out decks of cards. John did not join in the fun. He was by Marlborough, as he always was, making sure she was okay. Before Doctor Jones had left to tend to Atticus, he had told John that it would be about 3 weeks before Marlborough would fly again. Dammit. 

Perhaps they could get dragons to carry her. Marlborough and Atticus’ appearance would no doubt be shocking to the people in the area and cause a ruckus that John really didn't want to deal with. A ruckus that would only multiply the longer they stayed in the area. Dammit. 

“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” Oops. John hasn't realized he'd said that out loud. Higgins walked up beside him and clapped him on the back. “Surely it's not that bad. What's a few extra days in the countryside? Admiral Bell has had us patrolling for weeks. They'll survive without us just fine.”

“I'm not so concerned about Bell. Yes, there are plenty enough dragons to help with patrolling while we're here. The problem is that these… southerners…” John looked around disapprovingly,” have never seen a dragon before. They will poke and prod us until we leave, all while looking down their noses at us and yet we will have to deal with it because we rely on their hospitality!”

“Honestly, Captain. You've yet to actually speak to a southerner, let alone see one! Surely a bit more faith is in order?”

“Tell me, Higgins, since you seem to be such and expert in this subject, have you had the pleasure of speaking with a southerner?” John's voice was perhaps sharper than it should have been, all things considered. 

Higgins held up his hands in a placating gesture. “I confess, I have not. But I have every confidence that things will go well. At least we know the girls are pretty.”

“And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” John scowled. 

“It means to actually smile for once, Captain, and be charming if you can manage it. William's back, and he's brought a little of the local color with him.” Higgins nodded behind John. “Over there.”

John did as he was bid, and beheld the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. She stood erect, and walked with a purpose, but also graceful at the same time. She exuded confidence and her light green walking dress (and matching bonnet) matched perfectly with her chestnut hair. It was a wonder his jaw didn't crash to the ground. 

He wasn't the only man who'd noticed her sudden appearance. His men- and Watson's, too- had started heading toward her, some cat-calling and whistling, and others just staring, slack jawed. John couldn't blame them. 

Watson was already at the head of the pack, arms open wide and exclaiming his greetings. Watson cradled her hand within his own and kissed it, a trifle longer than publicly acceptable. The woman practically pulled her hand free from his grasp and suddenly-

Suddenly John was beside Watson, looking at this angel and actually talking to her. He was acutely aware of Higgins standing behind him muttering for John to “ _Smile,_ dammit.” 

“Welcome to Helstone. I understand your dragons have been injured and you’ve made an emergency landing.” Her voice was confident and strong, but not unpleasant. 

Watson spoke before John had even had a chance to process her words. “Yes! I’m afraid we’ve commandeered this field and have absolutely no idea whose it is. Could you perhaps enlighten us?” Watson was all charm and smiles; he was particularly adept with the fairer sex, leaving more than one broken heart whenever he left an area. This woman was no different than the rest, John thought wryly. Her lips curled into a sweet smile at Watson’s words as she replied.

“Certainly! You are in my Father’s field. He is the Reverend in Helstone. You are welcome to it for as long as you need. We don’t plant anything here. I am aware it is short notice, but my mother perhaps wondered if the Captains of the beasts would join us for dinner this evening.”

Watson’s smile had faltered on the word “beasts,” and to be fair, John wasn’t pleased with her word choice either. It was understood and somewhat tolerated by the Corps that the common man feared dragons, and did not understand that dragons were not unfeeling or beasts of burden, but companions. This was not the first time that an ignorant person had made a callous remark, -and nor would it be the last- but the comment still stung. 

Later, John would blame his next statement on extreme stress and worry over Marlborough. But now, the only thing flowing through his veins was vexation. “They are not beasts. They are dragons.”

The woman looked surprised. “Well, obviously.” This response and Higgins snort of laughter only fueled John’s ire.

“Well, madam, perhaps you are not aware that these- these _beasts_ have risked life and limb in His Majesty’s Service this afternoon to keep you and your precious Helstone safe from French intruders! I would have a bit more respect for them if I were you.” John’s words were clipped and harsh, and more than one man faced with this tone had cowered in fear. Not this woman; on the contrary, she stood up taller and her eyes _burned_ with a fire that matched his own.

Watson elbowed John sharply in the ribs and tried to defuse the situation: “What my companion means to say is that we would love to join you and your family for dinner. What time should we arrive?”

She ignored him. “Of course they risked their lives in battle! They’re dragons. It’s what they were bred for, after all. Rather like large warhorses.” 

“And I suppose that you are an expert on dragons, madam?” John’s voice got dangerously low. “Tell me, have you ever seen one bleed? Have you ever spoken to one, or even _really_ looked at one- beyond the physical, beyond their eyes and into their soul? No?” He scoffed. “If you’ve never done even one of those things, then you don’t know anything about them at all.”

And with that, John bowed to her, and left. It only struck him later that he hadn't thought to ask for her name. Dammit.


	5. Southern Fields II; An Exchange of Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in 2 days??? What????? be warned though: this is mostly just filler :/

Margaret watched the tall, dark haired Captain walk away; presumably, he was headed toward his mount. She felt sorry for what she had said. Clearly, it had hurt his feelings, and Margaret’s mother had taught her better than that. She wasn’t good at being diplomatic- even a decade among London society during the Season couldn’t cure her of that. Still, she could've tried harder and not replied so harshly.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the remaining Captain at her side. He was shorter than the other one, but still a few inches taller than her. He was certainly wider than she was. He clearly enjoyed his food, and took great pleasure in consuming it. Even so, he was not fat… he just seemed a bit… _more_ … than other men. His face was jovial, and he smiled easily (or so she assumed; she’d only met him ten minutes ago!). He was balding on the top of his head, but there was enough of the red/auburn hair so one wouldn’t really notice. His eyes were brown, like her own. His voice was higher pitched than his companion’s, but was no less pleasant.

“I apologize for my fellow Captain. He’s not usually so… energized.” He glanced quickly toward his colleague, and then settled his eyes back on her.

Margaret smiled. “Don’t apologize; the conflict was just as much my fault as his. I’m afraid I can be rather blunt and forceful with my opinions, or so I’ve been told.” 

“I thank you for being so understanding, Miss. I didn’t get the opportunity to introduce myself. I am George Watson, Captain of Atticus.” He held out his hand to Margaret. 

Margaret took it, and he pressed his lips (for the second time, she noted) to her hand as she responded:“Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Captain Watson. I am Margaret Hale, daughter of Reverend Richard Hale.”

“Splendid! I must say your name suits you very well, Miss Hale. Have you lived in this area long?” She couldn’t tell if he was truly interested in her, or if he was just being polite. She’d have to write to Edith later and ask her opinion. Edith seemed to know about these sort of things, Margaret mused. Either way, polite society dictated that she answer.

“All my life. I love living here! The air is fresh and clear, and the people are friendly. Of course, my parents can tell you all about the South and more at dinner tonight. Will you be coming?”

Captain Watson hesitated. “Well, I thank you and your mother for the invitation, but all things considered-”

“Nonsense!” Margaret broke in. “You- and your companion,” She gestured quickly to where the other man had walked away, “are still very welcome to join us tonight. I should hate to think that my behavior would keep you both away from a nice, hot meal.”

“If you insist, Miss Hale, then we will be there. I would enjoy talking with you some more. May I escort you home?” He held out his arm for her to hold onto, and they walked back towards the house, laughing and talking the whole way.

******************  
Perhaps she should have apologized to the other Captain in person. Because now, only Captain Watson was at the door, making excuses for his friend’s absence. She hadn’t meant to scare him off; apparently she’d been even more insensitive than usual. She sighed, then schooled her face into a polite smile, and accompanied Captain Watson into the dining room.

Margaret was afraid dinner would be awkward, with only her parents, Captain Watson, and herself present, but she needn’t have worried. Her initial judgment of him proved correct; he was quick to laugh and, even though he wasn’t particularly witty, his charming company made him pleasant to be around. All was going perfectly well, until her mother had to comment on his compatriot's absence.

“I am sorry the other Captain couldn’t join us tonight. Was there something wrong?” Margaret’s mother asked, quietly (of course, everything Maria Hale did was quiet. ‘The mark of a proper lady is to always be quiet and polite,’ Margaret’s Grandmama had once said).

“Not at all, Mrs. Hale!” Captain Watson responded in between bites of venison. “Thornton- that is, Captain Thornton-” (Ah! So that was his name!) “his dragon, Marlborough was injured earlier today. They have a deep connection, and he simply wished to be near her as she rests. We Corps are a sentimental bunch, even though we rarely seem like it!” Captain Watson laughed again. 

It was Richard Hale’s turn to join in the conversation. “Does every Captain and dragon have a connection? I find I am most curious.”

“Indeed, Reverend. Some more than others, naturally, but for the most part, the Captain is the first person the dragon sees once it is hatched. The connection is immediate and lasts until one of them dies.” For a moment, Captain Watson looked almost melancholy, but he quickly cheered up. “I, myself, wouldn’t trade my dear Atticus for all the gold in the British Empire!”

*******************

While Margaret enjoyed her dinner with Captain Watson, she felt absolutely horrid about Captain Thornton out in the cold without a warm dinner. And whatever Captain Watson said, she still believed that the real reason Captain Thornton stayed away was because of their argument earlier that day. And that was why she was out in the field, in her empire-waisted cream evening dress with naught but a thin shawl around her shoulders and a basket full of food that Dixon, the maid/cook, had given her to protect her from the still chilly spring nights.

Margaret had nearly turned around multiple times, but alas! From this close, she could see the men’s fires and the hide of both dragons. It was too late now. One of the men came up to her as she approached. She assumed he was a higher ranking officer than the average man. His outfit had more ornamental decoration than theirs, anyway.

“Can I help you, Miss?” He took off his hat and looked her deep in the eye.

“Yes, I am looking for Captain Thornton. Do you know where can find him?”

“He’s over there,” He pointed to the larger dragon. “May I escort you over there?”

Margaret blanched. Coward she was not, but she didn’t want to approach a beast of that size, either. “Do you think-” she hesitated, then tried again. “Do you think you could maybe ask him to meet me here?”

The man was laughing at her, she could tell. His eyes were sparkling with restrained laughter. “Of course, ma’am.”

In a few moments, she saw Captain Thornton heading towards her. He walked confidently, sure of himself and his place in the world, and in that moment Margaret was certain that the earth did not revolve around the sun, but this man.

“I sorry you did not have the chance to join us for dinner,” Margaret started, holding out the basket. “Here. The food is still warm.”

“So you came all the way out here just to give me a basket of food?” He commented, taking it from her. “Thank you for your thoughtfulness.” Margaret flushed, embarrassed.

“No. Actually, I came to apologize for what I said this afternoon. It was rude and insensitive of me, forgive me.”

He looked surprised, but pleased. His hard, blue eyes softened marginally. “I accept your apology. Will you accept mine for the way I spoke, as well?”

Ah. Margaret cocked her head. “So you apologize for how you spoke, but not what you said?” She asked. 

He nodded “Yes. The words were less than kind, but I cannot apologize for believing what I believe. I wouldn’t do you the dishonor of an empty apology, filled with meaningless words to appease you. Madam, I believe you to be more than capable of handling an adult conversation.”

Surprisingly, that got a laugh out of Margaret. She liked talking to this man. With Henry, it was as if she were a child, and he agreed with anything and everything she said, just to gain her favor. But this man spoke to her as an _equal_ , as a _man. And she liked it._

“I accept your terms. A truce, then?” She smiled at him.

“Agreed.” He extended his empty hand towards her. “Miss, I believe though we’ve had two conversations, we’ve yet to exchange names. I am John Thornton; Captain of Marlborough.”

She took his offered hand and shook it. 

“And mine is Margaret Hale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you it was filler. with maybe just a hint of plot if you squint reaalllllyyyy hard. Anyway, I had this idea that I was going to end one of the beginning chapters with the whole "My name is Margaret Hale" line just because I love it so much, but it just wasn't working for me in the last chapter. Honestly, the loops I had to go through to make them NOT know each other's names for the past 2 chapters has been EXHAUSTING! Still, I think the effort was worth it. Wbu??


	6. Arguments; or Another Kind of Battlefield

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken so long! But this is the longest chapter by FAR. Happy late Thanksgiving (if you're from the US, and REALLY late if you're from Canada)! Hopefully awkward!John makes us for it.

John wasn’t a particularly eloquent man. After his father’s death, John had spent his youth in the Corps, earning a wage to provide for his Mother and sister, Fanny. He wasn’t at leisure to flirt with the young women in town like other young men his age. This fact had never bothered him before.  
The problem was that now there _was_ a woman John would like to talk to. Miss Hale. She was smart, opinionated, and stubborn. Maybe most men didn’t think that those were attractive traits for a woman to possess, but John had never been “most men.” But _how did one go around talking to a member of the fairer sex?_ He couldn’t even make friends with his crew, and they had been in multiple life-and-death situations with each other! 

It was this conundrum that led to the most awkward week of his entire life. John would see Miss Hale talking to someone across the field, or look over and see her walking to her house. Occasionally, when he would look at her, and she would be looking back at him, Miss Hale would quickly look away, blushing. Higgins had assured John that these were ideal conditions to make friends with her. And yet John couldn’t. Every time he would start to walk over, something in the pit of his stomach would just _die._ So he would walk away, into the woods surrounding the area and go for a walk to calm his beating heart and get away from both Marlborough and Higgins’ knowing eyes. John told himself he was just waiting for the right moment. Their first encounter had escalated rather quickly, and John didn’t want a repeat of the experience.  
And now he might never get a chance. Doctor Donaldson had assured him and Watson that both Marlborough and Atticus were healing nicely (“Better than expected; must be all this nice, clean, Southern Air…”), and would be able to leave on the morrow. 

After that bit of news, John had wanted to talk to Miss Hale and maybe… _maybe what?_ He was a Captain in the Aerial Corps, hardly suitable marriage material, for one thing. And for another, what would he say: “Good morning, Miss Hale. I know we’ve only talked twice, and we’ve only known each other for a few days, and you’re father knows next to nothing about me, and I might be killed at any moment from the French, but could I write you ardent love letters? Oh, and by the way, my Father commited suicide, thrusting my family into poverty and dishonor!” Yes, that would go over quite well. John snorted. 

In the end, it didn’t matter that much. John hadn’t seen her all day. It’s not as if he could go around asking for her. That would call her reputation into question, and John wouldn’t do that. So, instead, he spent the rest of the day pacing back and forth in camp, looking as if he’d eaten sour grapes.

“This is why we told you to talk to her earlier, Captain!” Higgins disrupted John’s musings. Higgins was leaning on Marlborough’s side, and both of their faces were looking at him with matching exasperated faces.

“But would you listen? No! John Thornton, Captain of Marlborough, in His Majesty’s Aerial Corps knows best, doesn’t he, Higgins? Couldn’t be bothered to listen to us…” Marlborough chimed in. 

John stopped pacing. “I have been thinking of our flight tomorrow, nothing else.” He straightened his shoulders, and tried looking as innocent as possible.

It didn’t work; Marlborough narrowed her eyes to look at him, then quickly said, “You know, Higgins, I believe I overheard that Miss… Miss-”

“Hale,” Higgins happily filled in, eyes still on John’s.

“That’s right, Miss Hale. Anyway, I heard that she enjoys walking through the forest in the evenings.”

Higgins gasped. “Really? Amazing! I had no idea. Well, you don’t happen to know if she goes walking _alone,_ do you? It’s just that with so many strangers around…”

“That’s precisely the point! She does go walking alone. So you can see that the situation is quite perilous. What if she got lost, or if one of those strangers came upon her! That wouldn't do at all would it, Higgins?”

“You're quite right, Marlborough. Perhaps someone should go look for her. The lady’s safety is, after all, my top priority.” Higgins placed his left hand over his heart dramatically. 

“Who could go after her?”

“Why don't you go if you're so concerned?” John interjected. 

Oh no. Higgins and Marlborough were smiling mischievously. That was never a good sign.  
“Can't.” Higgins put both of his hands in his pockets, stood up straight and walked over to John. “You see,” he said smugly, “the lady and I have never been properly introduced. I am one of those _horrid strangers_ we were just talking about. Someone who already knows her has to go.”

Marlborough rolled her eyes “Oh the horror! If only there was someone in our midst who has talked to her.”

Now both heads swiveled toward John and spoke almost in tandem. Weird. “Oh, wait. There is.”

How was a man supposed to resist this onslaught from his most trusted companions? John threw his hands up in the air emphatically. “Alright! Fine! I’ll go after Miss Hale!”  
With that John stalked into the woods to search for Miss Hale, while murmuring things about “mutiny” and “blasted dragons…”  
********************  
John had been walking for a solid ten minutes in the woods surrounding Helstone, and he had yet to see Miss Hale. He did admit that the grounds were quite extensive, and as the information had come from Marlborough and Higgins, who had neither spoken directly to Miss Hale, he wasn’t at all likely to run into her after all. 

The path John had chosen was one he’d never gone on before; it wasn't professionally groomed like the others, but more rugged, as if someone had simply chosen to go wandering through this neck of the woods many, many times. The path was covered in trampled down leaves, with a few bushes and other plants on the sides, and (of course) trees. 

He was just about to turn around when he saw Miss Hale. She was sitting on what looked like a stump in a small clearing, and she was- she was crying. Dammit.  
John couldn't even have a normal conversation with a woman; how was he supposed to comfort a crying one!? Well, he squared his shoulders and approached her. There was no going around this. Leaving her out here alone- let alone in this condition- was ungentlemanly and unthinkable. 

Margaret looked up at his approach. “Oh!” she exclaimed. Miss Hale tried to hide her face and stop crying, but she couldn't stem the sniffles from coming out ever so often. “I-I wasn't aware anyone came here. What can I do for you, Captain?” she stammered, still looking away from him. 

“I do believe that's my line in this scenario, Miss Hale. What can I do for you?” John replied, taking a few tentative steps closer. 

Miss Hale bristled. “It's none of your concern.” She made to step around him and leave, but John stepped in front of her again.

“Please, Miss Hale. Clearly, you are in distress. Might I not be of assistance?” John held his hands out to her.

“I may be in distress, Captain Thornton, but that doesn't mean I can't handle it myself. Thank you for offering but I am quite alright.” This time John let her step around him but he continued to speak. 

“I don't think it would be ideal to go back to the house in your state. Besides, “John joked, trying to lighten the mood, “should any of the men see you walking back and me come out a few minutes later, they'll assume I made you cry.”

Miss Hale whirled around. “Oh, yes. We’d hate for your reputation to be under fire, wouldn't we?” She spat. “Heaven forbid _you_ be thought to be the cause of any distress in the world. Bloody perfect, that's what you are. A paragon of everything good in the world, aren't you? Forgive me, Captain, I do believe I'm needed elsewhere.” She curtsied and continued on her way before John could even blink. 

Dammit. He should have just walked away when he saw her. John was terrible at making jokes; why would he try and start now? John practically collapsed on the stump Margaret had just vacated and ran his hands through his hair. Well, now there was absolutely no chance of being able to write her when he left. What did he expect? She was the daughter of a respected clergyman, and he was a measly captain with nothing to offer her. It was for the best, he tried telling himself.

Still, she did stop crying. That was a good sign, wasn't it?  
********************  
The next morning, as the men were running around packing up, who should arrive but Admiral Bell. He came on his own dragon: Septimus, a Yellow Reaper. The strange thing was, he didn't talk to John OR Watson, but instead went inside to talk to the Hales. 

John and Watson exchanged clueless and confused looks before continuing to bellow instructions at their men, while slowing and inconspicuously inching closer together to gossip about Admiral Bell’s appearance. 

“Do you even think he knows we're here?” Watson scoffed. 

“I think so; we sent a report to him a week ago. But how does he know the Hales?” John replied.

“Maybe he doesn't; maybe he's just thanking them for hosting us?” Watson suggested.

“Perhaps; but then why come now? Why not come sooner, or send a letter?” John questioned. 

“Maybe you should mind your own business.” John and Watson jumped as Atticus’ voice floated over to them.”Who cares why the Admiral does what he does? Let's get out of here.” Blushing and hmm-ing and haw-ing, both captains hurried over to their mounts, making all of the final checks. 

Both were still there when Admiral Bell came out of the house, a few steps ahead of the Hales, and walked over toward the group.

John's heart gave a jolt. Margaret was with them, looking as haughty and beautiful as ever. Quickly, he averted his gaze and instead looked directly at Higgins... who wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. John scowled. 

“Watson! Thornton!”

That was the Admiral’s voice. John grimaced. Obviously, he was supposed to walk over, but...Miss Hale was with them. After their encounter in the woods, _what was he supposed to say?_ Nothing. Say nothing. John was good at that. If he didn't say anything, nothing could go wrong (He ignored the part of his brain that told him that saying nothing also wouldn't make anything go _right,_ either).

John turned and nearly stopped in his tracks. One, two, three, four… five. There were five people standing in the field. Admiral Bell, and Reverend and Mrs. Hale, Miss Hale, and… another man. John was sure that the man wasn't from the Corps. He was too well groomed, _and had his arm through Margaret's._ Could he be a relative? John dismissed the idea. He didn't look anything like the Hales. Margaret's intended? John's stomach writhed. Surely not?  
All to soon, he was standing by Watson and the others. He managed to put a decent smile on his face.

“Captains,” Reverend Hale said, “it’s been a pleasure to have you and your crews these past weeks. We're almost sorry to see you go, but we are very pleased to see your dragons have recovered so nicely. May I introduce you to Mr. Lennox? Mr. Lennox, these are Captains Thornton and Watson.” Hale gestured to each man, and Mr. Lennox stepped up to shake their hands. 

“A pleasure, I'm sure.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence in which John looked (read: glared) at Mr. Lennox and everyone else seemed to forget what to say. Margaret apparently found a rather interesting spot on her dress, as that’s where her eyes stay for far longer than was necessary. 

Mercifully, Watson comes to the rescue:“Thank you so much for your hospitality, Reverend. We've certainly enjoyed our stay.” 

“You're most welcome, Captain. If you're ever in the area again, do stop by. We’d love to have you over for supper again.” Reverend Hale said.

“See, I told you, Richard. They can act like decent human beings,” Admiral Bell laughed. “Thank you again for hosting them. Perhaps next time we'll give you advanced notice. It’s time for us to head back to headquarters, but I’ll be in touch, Richard.” Bell tipped his hat. “Maria, you’re as beautiful as ever. Margaret looks more like you every day.” With one last kiss to each lady’s hand, Bell strode off toward his dragon and crew.

So, he was on a first name basis with the Hales? This just kept getting weirder and weirder. He gave one last clipped head nod to the Hales and turned to survey his crew, as Watson did the same.

“Alright, men. This vacation has been long enough! Let's get back to base!” John said loudly, as his men clipped their harnesses to Marlborough's. As he approached her, her forepaw came down and John stepped into it, and she lifted him up onto her shoulder, where he clipped his own harness. 

Watson and his crew were now safely aboard Atticus, and Admiral Bell was now on Septimus. The Hales remained on the field, waving to them as they took off. The familiar beat of Marlborough’s wings had John’s heart soaring as he breathed in the wind-kissed air. He couldn't help but look down, however, at _her_. She was walking away from him, arm in arm with Mr. Lennox (bastard, John's jealous mind supplied).

“Look back,” he whispered, even though he knew she couldn't hear him. “Look back at me.” 

She didn't. And John would swear till his dying day that it was only the fierce sharpness of the blowing wind that made tears prick in his eyes.  
********************

Admiral Bell studied Thornton. Although Thornton hadn't spoken a word to Bell’s god-daughter, he saw how he looked at Margaret… and how she avoided his gaze. Oh yes, this would do very nicely.


	7. The Problem with Men; Or, The Misfortunes of Being Miss Margaret Hale

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!! This chapter is nearly 4000 words. Whew! I almost felt like this could be 2 chapters but I really like this alternating John and Margaret's perspective thing, so that's why this is so long (and so late!)

ONE MORNING AGO...  
The morning started like any other: She got up, brushed her hair with one thousand strokes (“It really does make your hair more vibrant,” Edith had said), put on a nice, light-colored day dress, and went down for breakfast.

Margaret kissed her father on the cheek, and greeted him warmly before tucking in to the delicious feast the cook had prepared. She had just finished putting butter on her roll when Dixon came in with a letter for Margaret’s Father. 

That was unusual. A letter, this early in the morning? Margaret couldn’t hide her curiosity as she watched her father open the letter and begin reading. She watched with alarm as his face became paler and his fork clattered against the china when he dropped it. 

Margaret reached over and grabbed his hand. “Is it-” she gulped. “Is it Fred? Is he dead?” Her mind rebelled against the words; he was so young! Surely God wouldn’t take him so soon?

“Worse.” Father croaked. “I must speak to your mother.” He stood up, a little unsteady, and walked briskly to the door and up the stairs, almost in a daze.

What could be worse than Fred dying?! Luckily, Father had left the letter lying on the table. Under usual circumstances, Margaret would never dream of opening it without her parents’ permission. But these weren’t normal circumstances. Reaching over, she grabbed it, and began reading it, her eyes flying across the page.

>   
> Reverend and Mrs. Hale,  
> It has come to our attention that your son, Lieutenant Frederick Richard Hale, has been part of a Mutiny aboard his ship, The H.M.S. Pochard, against his Captain, Lord Henry   
> Clarke. Lieutenant Hale has not been apprehended. If you or your household has any information regarding him, you are encouraged to report it. From this day forward, should you see or hear of him, you must report it immediately, or be accused of harboring and/or aiding a fugitive of the law.  
> Yours,  
> Commodore Christopher Riley  
> 

Margaret felt sick. Fred, involved in a Mutiny? No; it wasn’t possible. He was one of the most honorable men Margaret knew. He would never rebel! And yet, here was the proof, down on paper. Father would be furious if he knew she read this.

Quickly, Margaret replaced the letter to its resting place. What would Mama say? Margaret stood up and went to the stairs. Here, she paused. She couldn’t hear a thing; had he told her yet? Or was he dancing around the issue like usual?

Suddenly, there was a small shriek, a scraping noise like a chair suddenly pushed against the floor, and high-pitched sobbing. So he had told Mama, then. Margaret grabbed her skirt and ran up the stairs. Dixon, coming out of the kitchen, did the same.

“Mama!” Margaret burst into her Mother’s dressing room (another thing Margaret would never dream of doing. What was with her today?). Her father was trying to lift Mama off of the floor. Margaret quickly grabbed one arm as Dixon grabbed the other, shoving her father out of the way. Slowly but surely, they moved a hysterical Mrs. Hale to her bed, putting her head against the pillows and tucking the blankets around her. Father stayed behind wringing his hands together in agony. 

“Fred! My poor Fred! My dear son!” Mama sobbed. “I shall never see him again! What’s to become of my dear boy?” Mama repeated these words over and over while Margaret patted her arms gently and tried to comfort her. Dixon poured a cup of tea with shaking hands and brought it to her mistresses’ lips.

“Drink, you’ll feel better,” Dixon commanded gently.

Mama did so, and her sobs slowly died away. Father wasn’t much better; he paced the room from one side to the next like an agitated badger. 

“Sit, Father. Pacing won’t do a lick of good.” Margaret gestured to a chair near the window. Thankfully, he sat without much resistance.

“What shall we do?” He asked no one in particular.

“Well, there’s not much we can do.” Margaret said, strongly. “Fred involved himself in a mutiny. What’s done is done.”

“What shall we do if he comes back?” Margaret’s mother gripped her arm tightly. “We cannot turn him in to the authorities!”

“We won’t turn him in,” Margaret reassured her. “We won’t have to. Fred’s smart enough to never come back to England. He’ll find somewhere else to go. If he wants to communicate with us, then he’ll send a letter. We’ll decide what to do then: whether to respond or to just burn it. Nothing need be decided now. We have no information to disclose. Everything will turn out fine.”

Mama let go of her arm and leaned back against the pillows. “Yes,” she whispered, “nothing needs to be decided right now.”

“Rest now, Mama. You, too, Father.” Margaret stood. “I’m going for a walk.” 

Margaret was proud of herself. She made it all the way into the woods before collapsing into tears. Nobody saw her. Nobody, except for Captain Thornton.  
********************

Remarkable. Usually, the forest near Helstone was Margaret’s retreat from the world. She could always go there to relax, and ponder things over. And now, even that refuge had been ruined by that insufferable Captain Thornton. 

Margaret didn’t _mean_ to argue with him. It just _happened_. One minute, they were being polite and tolerable to each other, and the next they were at each other’s throat. She knew he had only meant well. She was just embarrassed that he had caught her crying. If it weren’t for her stupid _pride_ Margaret would turn right back around and walk into those woods to talk with him and apologize.

Before she knew it, Margaret was at her front door. Enough about certain Captains; Margaret had bigger issues at the moment. What to do about Fred?

Margaret couldn’t-- wouldn’t!-- believe he was really part of a mutiny. Surely there would have been hints in his previous letters if he had? But his letters were full of nothing but his usual humor. Fred was honorable; there must be some mistake. Perhaps his identity was mistaken? Perhaps the French were involved? This was too sudden. It simply did not make any sense.

She couldn’t talk to Mama or Father about it, that much was certain. Mama would be inconsolable at any mention of Fred, and Father would just get in the way. Margaret sighed, undoing the ribbon of her bonnet and taking it off her head. She began to pace back and forth in front of her house, unwilling to go back inside. She didn’t have any connections in the Navy besides Fred, except for her cousin’s husband. But they were on their honeymoon; he wouldn’t know anything. 

Could she talk to the Captains? Margaret didn’t think she could bring herself to face Captain Thornton again, let alone ask for his assistance, especially after she had rejected it in the first place. And now she couldn’t ask Captain Watson, either. If she did, no doubt he would inform his companion, and Margaret would still be in an awkward position. And what if they should inform their superior?

Wait. 

She could contact Mr. Lennox! He wasn’t is the military, or even government, but he was a skilled lawyer based in London. Margaret didn’t like him by any means, but he liked her. If she pressed her- or rather, Fred’s- case well enough, he might be persuaded to help. 

Dixon called from the kitchen, summoning her to the midday meal. Oh well, Fred and Bell could wait until after luncheon, she supposed.  
********************  
THIS MORNING...  
There were… noises… coming from downstairs. Noises that were recognizable to Margaret, but out of place for this early in the morning. Noises that roused Margaret from blissful unconsciousness. But she wasn’t quite ready to wake up.

She tried turning her head onto her pillow, only to realize it wasn’t there. She opened her eyes slowly, adjusting to the early morning light. Margaret wasn’t even in her bed at all! She was still sitting at her desk, where she had sat last night, writing a letter to Mr. Lennox. That letter was now useless, as Margaret’s hand had knocked over the inkwell, spilling ink all over Margaret’s letter and hand. 

Margaret jumped up and went to the edge of her bed, where a basin and jug of water sat with a rag. She grabbed the rag and wiped down the desk, clearing away the ink before dropping the ruined letter into the fire, which by this point, was mere embers.

The noises- which, by now, Margaret was able to identify as voices, were getting louder. As she changed into a new dress, Margaret tried to concentrate on whose they were. The voices were obviously male, but no one from her family or the village sounded like that. It wasn’t the rich baritone of Captain Watson or the deep bass of Captain Thornton. Suddenly, she knew. 

It was Mr. Lennox and Admiral Bell. Admiral Bell, the commander of the entire Aerial Corps, was Father’s friend ever since their boyhood days in Oxford. He was her god-father, and Fred’s as well. What luck! The very lawyer she wished to contact and a solid, sane presence right under her feet. Surely they would know what to do with Fred. 

Quickly, Margaret finished touching up her hair and pinched her cheeks to make them a little bit more pink. She walked _very gracefully_ (Edith would be proud) down the stairs and put on her best smile for the two gentlemen.

“Bell! Mr. Lennox! How wonderful to see you!” Margaret called. Both men turned to her.

Admiral Bell was tall, thin, with a head full of silver hair. His chestnut eyes crinkled at the sides and it seemed to Margaret that his mouth was always in a smile (though whether it was because of mirth, or his necessity to show off those pearly white teeth of it, Margaret wasn’t sure). “Ah! There’s my favorite goddaughter. How are you, my dear?” He grasped Margaret in for a gentle hug.

“I am your only goddaughter. I have to be your favorite.” Margaret laughed returning the hug.

“Yes, but that also means you’re my least favorite goddaughter, as well,” Bell replied, bopping her nose gently with his finger. Swiftly, he turned them to face Mr. Lennox.

“Mr. Lennox, I don’t suppose you’ve met my least favorite goddaughter, Miss Margaret Hale?”

To Margaret’s never-ending surprise, Mr. Lennox actually laughed. “No, I’m afraid I’ve only met your favorite goddaughter. She’s quite the charmer.”

“Yes, yes. Well, there’s a reason she’s my favorite, you know. She, unlike her brother, actually laughs at my terrible jokes.” Bell said.

Margaret stopped smiling. _Fred._ It hadn’t even been a full twenty-four hours since she’d learned of the mutiny and she’d already forgot. She was a terrible sister. 

Mr. Lennox noticed her face and stopped smiling as well, leaning out with his hand to touch her forearm. “It’ll be alright, Margaret. We’ll minimize the damage Frederick has done to the family. In a few months, this will all blow over.”

Margaret tried very hard not to bristle at his words. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Lennox, but I do not care about the damage to my reputation. I am more worried for my dear brother.”

Mr. Lennox had the audacity to look shocked at her words. “Why, Miss Hale! Surely you understand that a young lady’s reputation is paramount!”

“What kind of sister would I be if I was not concerned for my brother’s safety and comfort? As the Bible says, ‘Am I not my brother’s keeper’?” Margaret fired back.

This time, it was Bell that stepped in. “And while I think you are a wonderful sister, my dear Margaret, I think we have bigger issues at present.” Margaret looked up at him; he was looking, not at her, but over her shoulder at Mama and Papa.

Following his gaze, Margaret sobered quickly, looking at the pitiful sight of her parents, huddled close together, as if they could not stand without holding on to the other.

“You are quite right.” She put one of her hands on Bell’s arm. “Would you try and cheer them up a bit? Or at least console them? I must have a word with Mr. Lennox.”

“For you, my dear, anything.” Bell smiled sympathetically, patted her arm, and went to her parents.

“Miss Hale? What would you like to discuss?” Mr. Lennox, shifted from one foot to the other, and repeatedly turned his hat in his two hands. 

“Well,” Margaret hesitated, and stepped closer to him after sparing one last glance toward her parents and Mr. Bell. “You are a lawyer, are you not? I was hoping that you could use your skills to maybe help Fred… You know I cannot possibly hope to pay you, but as we are family, may I entreat you to be of service?”

Mr. Lennox looked down at his shuffling feet, and then back to her. 

“Miss Hale, you know I would do absolutely anything for you, but I’m afraid this is a lost cause. The admiralty does not like to accuse their officers of treason. It’s not a hobby of theirs. If they have convicted him, then I’m afraid he really has committed treason.” HE reached out for her hand, but let his drop to his side before touching her.

How dare he assume that Fred was guilty! How ridiculous! Margaret rather thought he would benefit from a nice, hard slap in the face. But, Mr. Lennox was family. Not to mention starting a scene here would be nonsensical, to say the least. So, Margaret smiled instead. “Well, I thank you for your time.” And, in a way that would make her grandmother proud, curtsied and walked away.  
********************

Magaret thought that while the Captains’ goodbyes did not go well, they certainly could have been worse. It was absolute torture, standing directly in front of Captain Thornton and trying to look at him without being too obvious; clearly, she was the only one suffering, because he didn’t look at her the entire time. 

And Mr. Lennox’s arm! He had offered it as they went outside, and she couldn’t have possibly refused him. And yet, in front of Captain Thornton, she had the crazy feeling that she was doing something wrong. 

The said arm was still connected with hers, and the hand connected to said arm was now very awkwardly caressing hers. And to top it all, now they were walking a great deal slower than her parents, leaving her stranded in the field with only Mr. Lennox. Margaret thought she preferred a certain ornery Captain’s company instead.

She could tell he was staring at her. _‘Oh heavens no!,’_ she thought to herself. _‘Please just keep walking!’_ she prayed to heaven while looking at the ground, the sky, the trees, anything but the man right next to her.

“Miss Hale, I don’t believe I told you the real reason I came to Helstone.” He began.

“REally?” _'Oh good heavens, her voice broke. How embarrassing…'_

Luckily, Mr. Lennox didn’t seem to notice,

“No. I, that is… I” He stopped walking, still holding on tightly to her arm.

_'NO!'_

“I would like it immensely if you would consent to be my wife.” He was trying to look her in the eye, but Margaret was having none of it.

“Mr. Lennox-”

“Please, Call me Henry.”

“Mr. Lennox,” She began more firmly, “While I appreciate the sentiments, I cannot marry you.” 

He dropped her hand. Success!

“We could never make each other happy. I’m sorry. I don’t want a life in London, and that’s clearly where you wish to be, so…” Margaret trailed off.

“Miss Hale, I’m asking you to marry me, not London,” he scoffed.

“I noticed,” she answered dryly.

He began to pace and threw his hands up into the sky and laughed. “It’s not as if you can hope for a better offer. You don’t have a dowry.”

“Excuse me? Is that how you would define my worth? My dowry?” Margaret laughed humorlessly. “Pardon me, but I think I’m worth a bit more than a couple of coins.” She continued walking toward the house.

Surprisingly, Mr. Lennox followed. “But think of my position! My wealth! You cannot hope for a better match. Even Edith approves!”

Margaret whipped around. “I thought I would be marrying you, not your position!”

“And that is your final answer? No?” 

“You are correct, sir. Now, will you be staying for supper or shall I call for a carriage now?” Margaret said.  
********************

“Mama? Papa? I want to go to Milton.” They had just finished supper, and Margaret was positively bursting with ideas that she couldn’t keep to herself a moment longer. 

Her father put down his spoon and looked at her over his glasses. “Whatever for?”

“Well,” Now Margaret put down her spoon as well,” I don’t think that Fred would mutiny. Something isn’t quite right. And the only person I can think to ask for help is Admiral Bell. And to do that, I would have to go to Milton.”

“But, Margaret… going to Milton is such an expense! And you certainly cannot go alone. Surely that would not be wise?” Her father protested

Margaret leaned over the table and touched his arm gently. “I am going for Fred, Papa. He needs our help. A letter would not suffice. I must talk to Admiral Bell in person. I’m sorry I didn’t get to him yesterday while he was here.”

“If you must go, you must go,” her father relented. “But I stand firm in the other respect: you cannot go alone.”

Margaret had hoped he’d forget about that small detail. She was no wilting daisy or damsel in distress! She could handle it herself. Alas, she would have to take somebody to allay his fears. Margaret’s eyes fell upon Dixon, who was serving Mrs. Hale some sausages.

Margaret looked back at her father. “I shall take Dixon! Going to Milton and coming back won’t take more than a week. Certainly you can spare her?” Margaret turned to Dixon. “You will come with me, won’t you? For Fred?” She said enthusiastically. 

Dixon grimaced, but agreed to her request.

The next morning, they were on their way.  
********************

Margaret and Dixon arrived at Milton two days later. Their carriage had been old and ragged, but the seats were comfortable and Margaret’s heart grew lighter with every turn of the wheels. Despite it being nearly mid-summer, Milton was overcast, gray, and even a little bit chilly. There were large stone walls surrounding the Aerial Base, with human sentries standing on top. There were hundreds of dragons of every color and size.

Despite herself, Margaret was a little bit nervous. She had known that dragons would be here, but she didn’t think there would be so many! Four large dragons were laying on their sides in the large courtyard, with several smaller dragons on top of them, forming a sort of sleeping huddle. Others were getting their harnesses checked, and still more were swarming in the sky. 

Margaret didn’t notice the boy that came up to her until he tugged at her dress. “Please, Miss. If you’ll follow me. The Admiral will see you now.” He was no more than thirteen, with straight brown hair tied back into a low ponytail that was apparently popular across all members of the corps. His uniform was blue- no doubt because he didn’t serve on a dragon yet.

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Margaret stammered. 

They made a funny little parade; Margaret following the boy, and Dixon following Margaret. 

Soon, they approached a big building on the left side of the courtyard, where it seemed a lot of offices and dormitories were. The boy led them up some staircases and hallways that Margaret really couldn’t make sense of, before stopping in front of a large door. 

“Here you are, Miss.” Without another word, he left.

“Shy little one, isn’t he?” Dixon said. “Well, come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”

Margaret knocked on the door. Admiral Bell’s voice told them to enter, so Margaret opened the door. When he saw them, Bell got out of his chair from behind his desk and came to embrace her. 

“Good Afternoon, Margaret! What brings you to Milton?” He asked, gesturing to the two chairs in front of his desk, and urging her and Dixon to sit.

“Fred.” Margaret jumped right into the issue. “I don’t believe for one second that he is treasonous.”

“Neither do I! But what does that have to do with your appearance here?” He asked her.

“I need to go to Spain. You see, my grandfather, the Lord Beresford, First Marquess of Waterford, had an illegitimate son- my uncle, the Viscount Beresford. My mother, his half-sister, and him have always been close. He is currently in Spain, and it is my belief that Frederick went to him after being branded as a traitor. There, I can prove Fred’s innocence. I need to procure passage on a ship and possibly some trusted men to help protect me in Spain. Can you help me?” 

Admiral Bell had a thoughtful look on his face. “You do realize that we are in the midst of a war? That Spain is fighting against Napoleon as well as us? It is not safe for a young lady of breeding to go.”

“I am aware. But I must go. Please, Godfather.”

“Alright. Here is what I shall do: I cannot get you on a ship or get bodyguards without people asking a whole lot of questions. I can, however, get you a Captain, a Dragon, and a Crew. You won’t be able to wear dresses. You’ll have to wear a Corps uniform. And, you’ll need a lady to accompany you. Do you accept?”

Margaret groaned internally at the thought of flying on a dragon. _'It’s for Fred… I’m doing it for Fred.'_ To Margaret’s pleasure, her voice sounded steady. “I accept. Dixon will come with me. My parents will need to be notified. I told them I was coming here, but did not tell them I was going to Spain.”

Then it is settled.” Bell slapped the desk, and walked to the door. He whispered to the boy who had brought Margaret earlier. _'When on earth did he come back?_

Afterward, Bell came back to sit at the desk.

“There. I’ve sent for the Captain. I will write to your parents now to explain what is happening. After we go over the details of your… trip… you will be escorted to your rooms. Then, you may eat in the mess hall and bathe if you wish, and we’ll get you a uniform first thing in the morning, hmm?” With that, he pulled out some blank paper and a quill and started writing.

For the next five minutes, all that could be heard was the scratching of Bell’s quill and the ticking of the clock. Margaret tried valiantly not to tap her foot, but failed.

Who would this Captain be? Clearly, he would have to be trustworthy. Brave, certainly. Valiant in battle, of course. Calm, clear-headed, and charming, too. 

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knocking at the door. Again, Bell shouted for the person to enter. The door opened. 

And there was Captain Thornton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was doing a little bit of research and found out that the viscount beresford is a REAL PERSON! It's almost like this fic was meant to be written...

**Author's Note:**

> Was that enough background? Do you need more? Are you even interested? I beg you PLLLEEEAAASSSEEE tell me if you are or if this is stupid!


End file.
